One of my sugar daddies took me to the Moulin Rouge in Paris to celebrate our second anniversary. If you ever get the chance to go, please do, I can’t recommend it enough! It’s everything and more… stunning costumes and choreography, lavish over the top and ridiculously camp musical numbers, gorgeous women with exposed breasts, shapely bums and long legs… I love it!
Buzzing after the show we head out in search of a nightcap; passing a nearby strip club. Obviously, I’d never been to a place like this before, but drunk on champagne and super horny, I persuade my sugar daddy to take me in.
Inside is dark, and pretty empty; a bar to one side, a stage with a few poles in the middle, and private booths down the other. Two girls wearing just underwear are stood at the bar, and a group of guys are in the corner drinking, apart from that, there’s little else going on.
We get our complimentary champagne and sit by the stage, watching in anticipation, for something/ anything to happen. Eventually one of the girls disappears around the back and reappears on stage. Her song comes on, and she does her turn, removing her bra halfway through the routine, dancing topless in just a thong, suspender belt, stockings and heels.
Once done, she retrieves her bra, slips it back on and joins the other girl at the bar. At one point a third girl comes out of a private booth with an older gentleman, looking very pleased with himself; they talk and laugh whilst she walks him to the door and says goodnight.
After that the three girls take it in turns to work the pole, every 10 minutes or so; hanging out at the bar in-between, waiting for punters.
My favourite was the first one we saw, she has dark hair and dark skin, a gorgeous curvy body, and perfect pert breasts. I’m mesmerised every time she gets up to dance and she catches me looking, giving me a saucy smile each time our eyes meet.
During one of her breaks, she comes over, gesturing to the two of us and saying something in French; pointing in the direction of the private booths, obviously asking if we want to join her. My French is poor, so I don’t know what she’s saying, but understand that whatever she’s offering, it cost ‘cent Euros’.
My sugar daddy’s quick to say no, that we aren’t interested; so giving me a disappointed smile she returns to the bar. I want to go after her and tell her to take me, but instead turn to my sugar daddy, and much to his surprise ask if I can go by myself. I want to treat myself to something in Paris after all, so why not this experience; he can pay and take it off my bill when we get back. Slightly shocked he follows me to the bar, where he pays the ‘cent Euros’, and watches as I’m led by the hand to one of the private booths.
I have no idea what to expect, but to be honest I don’t care. I’m thinking there might be a pole, or she’ll give me a lap dance; but I won’t be allowed to touch; isn’t that the rule in these places?
The little room is small and separated from the rest of the place by a thick curtain; and there’s no pole, just a curved bouffon type thing. She sits me down and proceeds to lift up my dress and gently stroke between my legs; seeing that I’m enjoying the attention, she removes my knickers and begins to pleasure me with her tongue. She takes off her bra, allowing me to fondle and play with her breasts; and spreads her legs so that I can pull her knickers to one side, and caress her clit. Her breasts are bigger than mine, but feel real, her nipples are different too, larger and more erect; her skin is soft and smooth, and she smells like soap. At one point my fingers tentatively explore her vagina, only to find it blocked with what feels like (but surely isn’t) a champagne cork. Unable to explore any further, I focus on her clit, licking my fingers to make sure they’re nice and wet.
I’ve no idea how long we’re in there, it’s impossible to maintain any concept of time in these situations, however once our time’s up, she makes me presentable, before taking me back to my sugar daddy; who’s sitting where I left him, looking a bit anxious and uncomfortable.
During our time together we barely speak due to the language barrier (and the fact that her mouth was otherwise engaged) however it’s amazing how much you can communicate without saying a thing. At one point I do ask whether she enjoys her job, like I’m making a fricking Louis Theroux documentary or something. She obviously understood the question, as she said yes, but on reflection what else was she going to say; it was a stupid question.
As someone who’s paid for sex and sexual services, I’m glad that I’ve had this experience and been on the other side of things. I may not have realised what I was paying for at the time, but I enjoyed the experience and was happy to give her my money, and my custom. I don’t know her story, or why she’s doing what she’s doing, but I hope she doesn’t hate it and that the men running the place aren’t screwing her over (because undoubtedly, it’s the type of place that’s run by men).
My sugar daddy didn’t appreciate the experience so much and was annoyed that I’d gone in without him, which was unfair as he’d been fine about it at the time. He felt left out and had wanted to join us, but hadn’t been brave enough; basically, he fucked up and missed out… sucks to be him!
Anyway, he took me back to the Moulin Rouge the following year for my birthday and somehow we ended up in the same strip bar; but that’s a story for another day.
Until next time,
Emily-Rose xxx
For more girl-on-girl action, check out this blog….
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